


The Widening Gyre

by donutsweeper



Category: NCIS
Genre: Altered Mental States, Disability, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was still capable of surprising Gibbs- and teaching him a thing or two about life as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Yeats poem "The Second Coming." 

Gibbs knocked and then waited, not patiently, but he waited nonetheless. A full three minutes passed before he heard the familiar clop- drag- skip that signaled Tony was making his way to the door. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. He wasn't about to let the stresses of his day intrude here.

"W-w-who is it?"

Gibbs smiled. Everyday, the same question. "It's me, Tony."

"Boss?"

"You're supposed to check who it is before you unlock the door," Gibbs said as he heard the deadbolt come off. "Did you look through the peephole?"

"No," Tony announced as the threw the door open. "But I di'n't need to. Y're the only one that g-g-growls like that. Besides, it's down-and-over and you always come when the clock says down-and-over."

Before Jethro could process that statement Tony threw his good arm around him for a hug. "Hey, Tony." Gibbs returned the hug with equal force. "You going to let me in?" he asked when Tony made no move to let go.

"Course I am, Boss. That's why I opened the door," Tony answered, his head still buried in Gibbs' shoulder.

Right, always expect a literal response. He knew that, but it was too easy to forget sometimes. "I meant that we should get out off the porch and go inside so we don't let all this cold air in."

"Oh." Tony looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. "G-g-good idea," he said as he released Gibbs from the hug. As soon as they were inside however, Tony grabbed Gibbs' wrist, pulling him after him as he lurched into the hall. "I have something to show you!"

"Let me get my coat off first." Gibbs twisted his arm gently, slipping out of Tony's grasp with practiced ease. "Tony, what's down-and-over?"

"S'what the big clock in the den says when you get here. The alarm beeps at down-and-up to remind me to eat dinner. I'm usually done by down-and-down. Then I clean up like I'm supposed to and by the time I'm finished it's down-and-over and that's when you come! 'Cept on the days you don't come. But I like the days you do come better." Numbers no longer meant anything to Tony; the various therapists had worked out a system of alarms and phone calls to keep him on a schedule when he was by himself. Gibbs hadn't realized Tony had figured out his own way of telling time. He should have though, Tony was always one for figuring out his own way of doing things.

"So, down-and-up is...?"

Tony didn't answer right away. Instead he bit his lip and carefully set his feet, shifting his weight. Having seen Tony fall over more times than he cared to remember Gibbs knew better than to interrupt whatever Tony was doing. Even on Tony's best days his balance was precarious to say the least. Once happy with his positioning, his good leg directly under him, Tony lifted his left arm straight up over his head while his right arm dangled limply, pointing at the floor. "Like this! Well, sorta anyway."

"No, you did it fine. So, this is when I come?" Gibbs simulated six forty-five with his hands.

"Yeah. You're good at telling time, Boss."

Tony seemed so sincere that Gibbs chuckled. "I've had a lot of practice."

"Is that 'cause you're old and g-g-grey? Mr. Joe's old too but he tells time different. He uses numbers. He says he never saw no one tell time my way before."

Mr. Johansson ran the corner store at the end of the block. Now that Tony was doing better he'd started walking down there on his own. At first Gibbs had been worried about Tony bothering the storekeeper too much, especially since he rarely remembered to take money with him. Not even when he going there specifically to buy his daily candy bar. But, Mr. Johansson told Gibbs that he didn't mind, explaining that Tony had helped him out a lot before and he'd considered this his chance to return the favor. Mr. Joe was a good man.

"I guess that makes you special." Gibbs reached out to ruffle Tony's hair.

"Guess it does." Tony laughed, leaning briefly into Gibbs' hand.

"So, what did you want to show me?"

Gibbs couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation as Tony's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what he'd been so excited about just a short time earlier. Moments like that always hit Gibbs hard, like an ice cold hand clenching his gut. It reminded him how much had been lost, how much had changed, and how much he hated having to accept it. Even if, and perhaps most ironically, those moments slipped by without seeming to bother Tony at all.

"Oh yeah!" Tony laughed, and he grabbed Gibbs' arm tightly. "You're g-g-gonna love this!" he yelled as he clop- drag- skipped into the kitchen, dragging Gibbs behind him. "Maggie showed me how to make coffee so it'll be strong enough for you. See? We put another scoop in here, a special scoop, just for you." He held it up. "So now when _I _make coffee I use the red scoop and the white scoop and the brown scoop but when you're here I use the blue scoop too. And I don't have to try to mess with the water pitcher, I can just pour the whole thing in. The water's the same, but there's the extra blue scoop of coffee to make it nice and strong for you."

Maggie was Tony's occupational therapist. Gibbs had liked her, even before she'd figured out a way to ensure Tony's coffee was to his taste. "So I assume that means I'm getting some coffee tonight?"

"Remember what you say about assuming, Boss." Tony waggled a finger inches from Gibbs' face.

"I remember. But you need to remember what happens when you get between a marine and his coffee." For a second the familiar banter made Gibbs flash back on the days, the years, when he and Tony would be stuck on a case, and how no matter the time or place Tony would know how to ease the tension with a joke or comment and pull Gibbs back from the verge of cracking and get him able to focus on the matter at hand again.

"I don't know about a marine, but I think _you _g-g-get g-g-grumpy when you don't have coffee. Am I right, Boss?"

Gibbs looked up in time to see Tony's smile broaden, his face lighting up. Whenever Gibbs found himself cursing the events that brought them here he tried to focus on that smile. The past couldn't be changed, but Tony, this Tony, was happy and content in the present. "You sure are, Tony. You sure are."


	2. Turning and Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come hell or high water, the barbeque was going to be a success.

Gibbs had decided to go the simple route for their first barbeque since everything that happened and stuck with hamburgers and hot dogs, basic, tasty food, and easy enough to eat one handed.

He kept a careful eye on the grill, but was fairly certain he was prepared for anything that could go wrong with the cooking: there were extra coals ready and waiting to be added and a spray bottle on the table in case dripping grease caused a flare up. He just hoped he was equally ready for any other problem that might occur.

He'd put the others in charge of the side dishes and desserts after warning them on what foods, and actions, would be appropriate. Abby had brought a tray of cut up vegetables; Gibbs only recognized carrots and celery, though there was something he'd thought at first was broccoli until he'd gotten a better look at it and realized it was purple. He'd made the decision, then and there, that while Ducky was always admonishing him to eat his greens, he'd never said anything about other-colored foods and therefore it was perfectly fine to stay far away from the entire tray, just to be on the safe side.

McGee had brought a few bags of chips and salty snacks. The pretzels looked safe enough, but the potato chips were some green and white, flavored kind that made his eyes water and left a sticky powder on his fingers. After his first taste, Gibbs had decided to steer clear of those as well. Although, the way the rest of the team was eating, it didn't look like there would any left by the time he finished cooking anyway.

Ziva had brought hummus, a dip she claimed would go well with the vegetables and chips. Ducky had looked happy to see it, although Gibbs had to admit he'd tuned out the story it'd inspired Ducky to tell.

Palmer and Ducky had come together, Ducky bringing the drinks, non-alcoholic of course, and Palmer the dessert, walnut chocolate chip cookies. Apparently, they used to be Tony's favorite, back in the day.

Palmer was surprisingly good with Tony. Not like McGee, who floundered about trying to think of something to say that wouldn't be inappropriate or upsetting, or Ziva, who looked at Tony with such pity in her eyes it made even Gibbs wince.

Abby was still Abby, and despite the way she fluttered around Tony with her hugs and never-ending chatter Tony seemed comfortable enough, sitting there soaking it up along with Palmer's unassuming acceptance.

Overall Tony had been quiet today, far quieter than he'd ever been before it all went to hell, but even quiet for how he was now: when it was just the two of them, coffee and the boat. For a moment Gibbs was concerned, but then Tony smiled that bright, shining smile of his and Gibbs decided that maybe Tony had the right idea.

He cracked open a soda and relaxed, determined to enjoy the rest of the day.


End file.
